Pacific Note-Book

Northern Advocate, 18 May 1943, Page 6

Pacific Note-Book

(By Robin Miller) In the Operations Room Tunnelled into the side of a hill is the “operations room,” a far cry this from the neat, office-like and spacious “op’s room” of a New Zealand station. The entrance is not imposing, but a grim reminder of the job in hand. It is flanked with sand-bags, built into a hefty portico with the aid of coconut palm trunks. The cave-like interior is lit with a petrol lantern, and the furnishings are anything but elaborate, consisting in the main of the ingenious conversion of packing cases. In the centre of the room a reconnaissance crew, clad in the übiquitous khaki of the region, receives its instructions from the operations officer. His description is terse, yet omits no detail. He makes his points with the aid of a map of the area to be reconnoitred. He answers such questions as the crew may ask. There is an air of complete confidence as the operations officer hands a chart to the aircraft captain. Such is "briefing” in the tropics; the process exactly the same as that in New Zealand, the conditions much different.

The venue changes to the flying field. The crew climbs aboard it's aircraft. The motors are opened, the bomber turns into wind and thunders down the runway. Rapidly, she takes the air and pales into the blue of a tropic sky. Such departures are without drama — they are, as they were in New Zealand, part of the R.N.Z.A.F. working' day. In the same way during the day other aircraft will depart on seaward duties; some for convoy work, others for reconnaissance. In all cases the objective is the same: keeping the seas safe for our vessels, and making them hazardous for the enemy. At night, the work goes on as certain aircraft depart to inflict the misery of a night bombing attack on Japanese instalI ether stations in the area, fighter aircraft depart in flights and squadrons at irregular intervals during the day and night. During daylight and darkness, too, ground crews carry on their work of servicing, carry it on in a tropical background, but in a manner that is little different from that of their New Zealand training stations. »:•. $ * * Off Duty in Islands The similarity that characterises enforce duties in both the South Pacific and New Zealand is the antithesis of the manner in which spare-time is spent in the two locations. Off-duty hours of R.N.Z.A.F. personnel in “the islands ’ is spent in a variety of ways—coconut retrieving, butterfly-collecting, crab-hunting, souveniring, out-door talking pictures at night, and, of course, in writing home. Many of these diversions, of course, are strictly limited by locality, few islands offering the full bill, but, on the other hand, no island being without some “sideline.” Newcomers to the area are invariably fascinated by what, at first sight, appears to be an endless supply of free coconuts, and the unprecedented opportunity of sampling the milk of the green coconut. The catch, however, is that nature in her wisdom has placed the coconuts at the top of lofty palm trunks, and has fixed them on in no uncertain manner. Those which fall to the ground are usually rotten, while those on the top of the tree are of little more use because of their inaccessibility. Nevertheless, throwing sticks, lassooing and the forming of human ladders as means of securing the fruit, are tried with varying success, but all serve as diversions for men totally without clubs, picture theatres and dancehalls in which to while away the idle hours

sU * * * Butterfly Collections Butterfly collecting is the unusual hobby of many R.N.Z.A.F. members in the Pacific areas. The regions abound with unusual and magnificent specimens almost as large as birds. It is somewhat paradoxical to find men, who in their duty hours work on aero engines or occupy the air-gunner’s turret of ,an aircraft, spending their spare-time laying-out a collection of butterflies that would bring tears of joy to the eyes of a naturalist. Crab-hunting, on the other hand, attracts the more rugged type of individual who finds delight in blasting the huge coconut crabs from their rock lairs on the shore. In areas nearer the battle zone, wrecked Japanese aircraft attract a large following of souvenir hunters. This is no elementary business of souveniring for the sake of building up a collection of unusual bits and pieces; for there is much scope here for those of an inventive and ingenious turn of mind. Pieces of duralium from wrecked enemy aircraft are deftly fashioned into wrist-watch bands, and pieces of broken plastic glass from windscreens are cut into unusual necklacc-s, the latter usually finding their way back to New Zealand.

Swimming, of course, is universally popular, that is, once the New Zealander loses his fear of sharks, with which, despite popular belief, the southern wafers do not abound. In certain areas, outdoor picture shows are presented at intervals, and it is something of a novelty for New Zealanders to sit outside in the mild night atmosphere and see screenings of , some of the latest American releases. These shows are much appreciated “in the islands.” Diversions, however, have in the main to be created on the spot, pictures and mails being about the only side attractions not provided either by nature or luckless Japanese airmen. In addition to “locality” hobbies mentioned earlier, an impressive list of minor hobbies could be compiled, including lizard collecting and tropical gardening, the latter offering . new problems to even the most experienced gardeners. Irrespective of their nature, however, these Pacific island hobbies have an incalculable value as a boost to morale.

R.N.Z.A.F. bomber aircraft, which, late last year, made history by flying from New Zealand to the heart of a south-west Pacific battle area, are engaged not in aerial warfare. but in reconnaissance. This reconnaissance is responsible for covering tho movements of our shipping in the area, and uncovering the movements of the enemy shipping. In both aspects of the work, our reconnaissance aircraft are not looking for fight; they will defend themselves if need be, as. indeed, the enemy to his disadvantage, has discovered. These reconnaissance squadrons have, by the Americans themselves, been described as the “eyes of the American dive-bombers and fighters;”their work is to keep the sea areas of their- commands constantly under surveillance and, if need be, bring the fighters and bombers to the kill. Those who have been privileged to watch the ground organisation for reconnaissance in New Zealand will have been impressed with the streamlined efficiency with which it is carried out. The organisation is practically the same, even if to the newcomer it seems somewhat inccngrous in its ‘South Sea Islands” surroundings. The scene is in the Solomon Islands, which rise as rugged mountain-tops from the sea. There is an intense humid heat, and the lofty terrain is covered with dense jungle, formed of huge trees laced together by heavy vines and creeping plants, with a heavy and dense undergrowth. The island is far removed from the popular novelist’s conception of the ‘South Sea Islands.” In a broad clearing in the jungle, at the perimeter of which are tents, cookhouses and ablutionary facilities typical *of temporary camps of war, aircraft are dispersed. They do not comprise the total aircraft strength of the station—some are out on reconnaissance over the sea-lanes, they will be coming back at different times through the day, a fact which will govern the departure of other aircraft going out in maintenance of the vigil. Some of the machines have just returned, and these are in the busy and skilled hands of the ground crew assigned to each aircraft. The armourers, flight mechanics, riggers, and fitters carry cut the same duties as they carried out in New Zealand. Today, however, they are clad in khaki shirts and shorts, and the tropical atmosphere is completed with a topee. The latter ts no mere aid to the creation of atmosphere; it is very hot here, and every man wears a service water bottle — to be without a water bottle in this area is to be partly undressed.